“Gods! I am bored!”
Plopping down in a huff, the Elven woman scowls as she raises a cupcake shaped shield to block the blows of an attacking rock guardian. Picking up a dented teapot, she lobs it at the construct, striking it in the head. It’s eyes go wide, and then the beast crumbles into a pile of stone and rubble. She shifts her shield and scoots over to sift through the debris, absentmindedly tossing the teapot over her shoulder. It bounces off the face of a charging stoney menace, angering it more than stunning it. She rolls away just before the guardian pummels the ground where she had seated herself, fragments of stone flying off its fists and lodging in her leg.
Glaring at the monster, she leaps to her feet and turns to face it, drawing a greatsword from the baldric on her back. She charges, slicing the blade through the air, severing the guardian’s left arm and sending it staggering backwards. Steadying herself, she circles around her foe quickly, a half step back and then WHOOSH, the blade sweeps through the air, cleaving the guardian in half! The force binding the stone together dissipating, leaving a dusty pile of rubble in it’s wake.
Rutilant sparks of light surround the woman, and the stone fragments imbedded in her leg fall to the ground as the wound closes, the scar forming and fading in the blink of an eye. She sheathes her sword and grabs the teapot from the ground, before poking the toe of her bright green galoshes through the rubble.
“Seriously,” she mutters as she pushes the stone aside to reveal a ratskin cloak. “How many rats have to die to get a guardian sized cloak?” She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, opening her mind to sense nearby life forces, the tranquil look quickly replaced with a petulant scowl.
“Stupid hunters, stupid guardians,” she mumbles under her breath. As the rumble of stone heralds the arrival of another rock guardian, she rummages through her baldric trying to decide which weapon to use. With a half hearted chuckle, she wields a battered spoon and turns to face her newest challenger, whapping it on the nose as it charges past her. The beast roars and grabs a nearby stone, attempting to wedge it into the hole where it’s nose once was.
“I really should be laughing at you,” the woman says to guardian with a wry smile. “But, I am bored to death and you are boring, and weapons are boring, and rocks are boring…” Her voice trails off as the guardian, oblivious to it’s own dullness charges toward her. She plants her feet and meets his charge with a fearsome shove, sending it back onto it’s rump.
“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “Done here.” Backing out of combat she waves at the bewildered beast and sprints off towards the Northern Trade Route, her steps getting lighter the further away from grind of hunting she gets.
Pressing through the brush, she emerges onto the road, barely avoiding a passing caravan. She stretches her arms and shakes the rubble out of the folds of her fabulous silveress tutu. Pushing the mass of untamed curls of hair from her eyes, she looks to the south, pondering the possibilities. Her eyes darken at the thought of herbs and alchemy, and talking at people that forget to have personalities, her shoulders slump once more as she turns to begin the trek to town. She should go further south and harass her family, but there is so little to hunt there, it makes for quick visits and long treks back to stupid hunting. But, if she hunted more she could just stay. Making the firm decision to pout and grind up stupid herbs, she drags her feet as she trudges along the road.
“Morning, Miss!” A caravan driver calls out as he approaches, heading north. His friendly smile causes his eyes to crinkle and he tips his hat as he passes.
“Oh, hey,” she calls out, grinning in spite of herself. “Where are you off to?”
“Just taking a load of foot cream to Theren,” the driver responds, motioning to the overflowing wagon of jars and bottles. “This is their weekly delivery.”
“Does it help,” she asks, eyeing the cargo.
“It sure seems to smell better,” the driver responds with a nod. “I hear they need more folks in the Guard, seems like everyone that joins ends up needing this stuff, so I am hoping they get some people and double my deliveries. I could just do this route and skip some of the short ones. The missus would enjoy having me home a little more often.”
The Elven woman gazes at the man, a slow smile spreading across her face as a plan to help him hatches in her mind. “I think I know how to help,” she says, bounding up to the driver and planting a kiss on the side of his face. “You, sir, are brilliant!”
The startled driver stares at the woman as she turns to run toward town. “Something bad is going to happen, isn’t it,” he asks, unable to restrain a laugh.
“Horse needs a hobby and the guard needs people,” she yells over her shoulder. “He has to count for at least two!” She stops and turns toward the driver, flashing a brilliant smile his way.
“Um, hey! How far south do you go,” she asks, the question laced with a tinge of hope.
“I go everywhere, if the price is right,” he responds with a nod.
“Could you deliver something for me, your next trip that way?” Not even waiting for his answer, she grabs a piece of paper from her bag and scribbles a note, folding it in half. She draws a haphazard map across the front, adding a stick figure dwarf with a long grey beard.
“This is for Uthgaar, the map will get you there, Please bring a plate of waffles and leave it at the door,” she says hopping up on the side of the wagon and pressing the paper into his hand. She drops bulging pouch of gems on the seat next to him before jumping down from the wagon. He glances at the pouch, guessing that the contents are worth more than any trek to anywhere would garner. He stares at the woman in disbelief.
“Is it enough,” she asks, her brow creasing with concern.
“More than, Miss,” he replies with a nod. “But, are you sure he will find it? I would hate to not get your message delivered.”
“That is what the waffles are for, silly,” she replies with a grin. “Okay, I am going to make Horse, the Guard and your wife happy! Thank you!” Her grin turns into a bright smile as she turns to run toward town, giving the man one last wave.
He shakes his head, pretty sure that whatever is coming next is going to make his trips more interesting, at the very least.
Gazing at the paper in his hand, he is unable to resist reading a message so hastily written, but worth so much to deliver. He shakes his head and chuckles at a note that only the recipient could understand.
“Stop sleeping in your dirty boots and please share a cookie with New Old Steve, a snake can’t live on mice alone. I haven’t broken anything too badly… yet. I love you.”
Plopping down in a huff, the Elven woman scowls as she raises a cupcake shaped shield to block the blows of an attacking rock guardian. Picking up a dented teapot, she lobs it at the construct, striking it in the head. It’s eyes go wide, and then the beast crumbles into a pile of stone and rubble. She shifts her shield and scoots over to sift through the debris, absentmindedly tossing the teapot over her shoulder. It bounces off the face of a charging stoney menace, angering it more than stunning it. She rolls away just before the guardian pummels the ground where she had seated herself, fragments of stone flying off its fists and lodging in her leg.
Glaring at the monster, she leaps to her feet and turns to face it, drawing a greatsword from the baldric on her back. She charges, slicing the blade through the air, severing the guardian’s left arm and sending it staggering backwards. Steadying herself, she circles around her foe quickly, a half step back and then WHOOSH, the blade sweeps through the air, cleaving the guardian in half! The force binding the stone together dissipating, leaving a dusty pile of rubble in it’s wake.
Rutilant sparks of light surround the woman, and the stone fragments imbedded in her leg fall to the ground as the wound closes, the scar forming and fading in the blink of an eye. She sheathes her sword and grabs the teapot from the ground, before poking the toe of her bright green galoshes through the rubble.
“Seriously,” she mutters as she pushes the stone aside to reveal a ratskin cloak. “How many rats have to die to get a guardian sized cloak?” She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, opening her mind to sense nearby life forces, the tranquil look quickly replaced with a petulant scowl.
“Stupid hunters, stupid guardians,” she mumbles under her breath. As the rumble of stone heralds the arrival of another rock guardian, she rummages through her baldric trying to decide which weapon to use. With a half hearted chuckle, she wields a battered spoon and turns to face her newest challenger, whapping it on the nose as it charges past her. The beast roars and grabs a nearby stone, attempting to wedge it into the hole where it’s nose once was.
“I really should be laughing at you,” the woman says to guardian with a wry smile. “But, I am bored to death and you are boring, and weapons are boring, and rocks are boring…” Her voice trails off as the guardian, oblivious to it’s own dullness charges toward her. She plants her feet and meets his charge with a fearsome shove, sending it back onto it’s rump.
“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “Done here.” Backing out of combat she waves at the bewildered beast and sprints off towards the Northern Trade Route, her steps getting lighter the further away from grind of hunting she gets.
Pressing through the brush, she emerges onto the road, barely avoiding a passing caravan. She stretches her arms and shakes the rubble out of the folds of her fabulous silveress tutu. Pushing the mass of untamed curls of hair from her eyes, she looks to the south, pondering the possibilities. Her eyes darken at the thought of herbs and alchemy, and talking at people that forget to have personalities, her shoulders slump once more as she turns to begin the trek to town. She should go further south and harass her family, but there is so little to hunt there, it makes for quick visits and long treks back to stupid hunting. But, if she hunted more she could just stay. Making the firm decision to pout and grind up stupid herbs, she drags her feet as she trudges along the road.
“Morning, Miss!” A caravan driver calls out as he approaches, heading north. His friendly smile causes his eyes to crinkle and he tips his hat as he passes.
“Oh, hey,” she calls out, grinning in spite of herself. “Where are you off to?”
“Just taking a load of foot cream to Theren,” the driver responds, motioning to the overflowing wagon of jars and bottles. “This is their weekly delivery.”
“Does it help,” she asks, eyeing the cargo.
“It sure seems to smell better,” the driver responds with a nod. “I hear they need more folks in the Guard, seems like everyone that joins ends up needing this stuff, so I am hoping they get some people and double my deliveries. I could just do this route and skip some of the short ones. The missus would enjoy having me home a little more often.”
The Elven woman gazes at the man, a slow smile spreading across her face as a plan to help him hatches in her mind. “I think I know how to help,” she says, bounding up to the driver and planting a kiss on the side of his face. “You, sir, are brilliant!”
The startled driver stares at the woman as she turns to run toward town. “Something bad is going to happen, isn’t it,” he asks, unable to restrain a laugh.
“Horse needs a hobby and the guard needs people,” she yells over her shoulder. “He has to count for at least two!” She stops and turns toward the driver, flashing a brilliant smile his way.
“Um, hey! How far south do you go,” she asks, the question laced with a tinge of hope.
“I go everywhere, if the price is right,” he responds with a nod.
“Could you deliver something for me, your next trip that way?” Not even waiting for his answer, she grabs a piece of paper from her bag and scribbles a note, folding it in half. She draws a haphazard map across the front, adding a stick figure dwarf with a long grey beard.
“This is for Uthgaar, the map will get you there, Please bring a plate of waffles and leave it at the door,” she says hopping up on the side of the wagon and pressing the paper into his hand. She drops bulging pouch of gems on the seat next to him before jumping down from the wagon. He glances at the pouch, guessing that the contents are worth more than any trek to anywhere would garner. He stares at the woman in disbelief.
“Is it enough,” she asks, her brow creasing with concern.
“More than, Miss,” he replies with a nod. “But, are you sure he will find it? I would hate to not get your message delivered.”
“That is what the waffles are for, silly,” she replies with a grin. “Okay, I am going to make Horse, the Guard and your wife happy! Thank you!” Her grin turns into a bright smile as she turns to run toward town, giving the man one last wave.
He shakes his head, pretty sure that whatever is coming next is going to make his trips more interesting, at the very least.
Gazing at the paper in his hand, he is unable to resist reading a message so hastily written, but worth so much to deliver. He shakes his head and chuckles at a note that only the recipient could understand.
“Stop sleeping in your dirty boots and please share a cookie with New Old Steve, a snake can’t live on mice alone. I haven’t broken anything too badly… yet. I love you.”
